


come crashing into my life again

by thesoundofsirens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, Ginny's a lesbian and Luna's pan, Mutual Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, and they were ROOMMATES, but either way they're both in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoundofsirens/pseuds/thesoundofsirens
Summary: After a highly publicized break up with Harry, Ginny finds herself wandering without much purpose in life. She's just another overworked Quidditch correspondent at the Daily Prophet and she's stuck back in the Burrow, until she reconnects with Luna Lovegood by chance at a coffee shop. Ginny's looking for a roommate, Luna's looking for a partner, and they both just might have found what they needed.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 105





	1. come crashing into my life again

Ginny can’t remember the last time she woke up without a splitting headache. It could be the sleep deprivation or the thought of going into work today, but either way, life in her twenties has been thoroughly overrated, she muses. Her bedroom is a mess of scattered papers and clothes, but it’s consistently messy in the same way, so Ginny knows exactly where to find her socks by the lamp and her bag under last night’s jeans. She bumps her head on the sagging doorway on her way out of the room, which does nothing to improve the headache situation.

“One of these days your father and I will get around to fixing that,” her mother clicks as she whisks around the corner with a basket of laundry on her hip to see her daughter rubbing the newly formed spot on her head.

 _Or one of these days, I’ll have enough money for my own place,_ Ginny thinks privately. That particular line of thought comes up more than once as she weaves through piles of her father’s half-pulled apart machines on the living room floor and grabs the pair of boots she’d left by the couch. Despite being the last of the siblings left in the Burrow, it still seems like most days there’s not enough room for them all to breathe. “Have a good day!” she calls behind her on her way out the door, smiling at her father’s distracted reply.

Well. Off to war, then.

The office hadn’t always been this tense, in the beginning. Ginny can’t recall exactly when the general indifference and slightly patronizing tones of her coworkers had turned into blatant dislike, but if she’d had to hazard a guess, it would probably be around when she’d dumped Harry after graduation. Having the Chosen One’s girlfriend as an employee is good for business; having his ex, it turns out, is not. 

The way the papers had framed the breakup did nothing to help matters. The reporters had managed to muster all the sympathy in the world for the poor, traumatized teenage boy who, the Wizarding World agreed, had lost quite enough already. Ginny had been slanted as the callous, fame-seeking love interest who’d probably dropped him for someone better looking (although the papers could never agree on just who that had been). It was all a fair bit ridiculous, really. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that she’d realized she was more into witches than wizards, but it certainly wasn’t hers either. But the two of them had done their best to respect Ginny’s privacy and keep that bit out of print, and they’d ended things on as good of terms as could be expected under the circumstances. They haven’t talked since Ginny had taken the last of her things out of Harry’s flat, but there’s no animosity there. It’s still weird, and she doesn’t know how Ron feels about the whole affair, but Ginny is glad to know that she hasn’t burned any bridges that really matter.

She tries to focus on her deadlines more than the glares that her coworkers send her way, but she’s painfully aware of how everyone in the room heaves a repressed sigh when she walks out. Seriously, there’s a noticeable change in oxygen levels. She always wonders what kind of quality rumors she’s missing out on every time the whispers grow when she turns away. The _Daily Prophet_ has always been one for a good gossip columns, but its employees could put it to shame with the way the office rumors flew. 

But Ginny does her best to ignore them all, shuffling her way through the daily routine and working far past closing hours when her coworkers have abandoned their cubicles. She likes the quiet that the office settles into once all the gossips are gone. Eventually, she looks up to find that the sky has grown dark outside her blinds and the stack of papers on her desk has shrunk to an acceptable height, so she closes up for the day. Standing on the sidewalk outside, wand in hand and ready to Apparate home, Ginny hesitates. It’s been a long day and she really doesn’t feel like dodging her mother’s questions back at the Burrow.

 _I need a night off,_ she thinks, and with a crack! she finds herself at the first place that came to mind, her old favorite Muggle coffee shop in London. Ginny hasn’t been back since graduation, but she remembers fondly the way her father would take her on birthdays and after shopping trips occasionally. She hadn’t even realized how long she’d been standing slumped over until she finds herself straightening in the cool night air outside the cafe. Here, at last, Ginny is far away from anyone who’s so much as heard the name Harry Potter.

She pushes through the doors and takes a deep breath as the first smell of scones and freshly ground coffee hits her. This is exactly what she’d needed. At nearly nine pm, most of the customers have left and there’s no line to face the single bored barista leaning against the register and tapping his fingers to a beat pulsing through a pair of poorly concealed earbuds. “Hi,” Ginny says, as brightly as she can manage after a twelve hour work day.

He doesn’t hear her, or at least he’s doing a fantastic job of pretending not to, so Ginny clears her throat and tries again. “Hello?”

“Connor!” a strangely familiar voice calls from out of sight in the back. “Connor, be a dear and stop ignoring our customer, please,” the girl admonishes.

The barista (Connor?) sits up and offers Ginny the fakest smile she’s seen since the last time she attended a press release. “Hey, what can I get for you,” he says, and the girl who’d been lecturing him from the back walks up behind him and shakes her head sadly.

“I do think you can be a little more welcoming than that,” she says, and all it takes is one glimpse of her side profile- long wisps of blonde hair, wide silvery eyes, outrageously large plum earrings- for Ginny to realize why her voice had sounded so familiar.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ginny says with a grin. “Luna Lovegood.”

“Ginny!” Luna cries happily. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Ginny says wryly with a nod towards the Muggle barista who’s already turned away in disinterest.

“Oh, it’s quite the story,” Luna says.

“I’d love to hear it.”

For a moment, they just stand there, smiling at each other from across the counter. Ginny had lost touch with Luna along with most of her old Hogwarts friends after she’d graduated, overwhelmed with her new workload. Most of them were better friends with Harry than her anyway, and after the breakup, it was just too awkward to get back in touch. She’d let more people than she cared to count slip out of her life. But here Luna stands in all her beautifully eccentric glory, beaming at her in a green apron and a visor and asking what she’d like to order.

“I’m in the mood for a chai,” Ginny says, realizing she’s been staring for longer than was normally socially acceptable. Luckily, Luna has never really cared about what was socially acceptable and doesn’t comment on the delay.

“Hot?” Luna confirms, and then she’s off to make the drink personally, patting Connor on the shoulder and asking him to go wash a few dishes in the back while she takes care of this one. It’s mesmerizing, Ginny thinks as she watches her old friend dance between machines and get everything set up just right. She rummages through her wallet to find some Muggle money to pay, but Luna waves her off. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughs. “It’s on the house.”

Ginny thanks her and takes a seat on a barstool as Luna dusts her hands on her apron and walks around the counter to join her. “So, any chance I’ll get to hear that story any time soon?”

“Maybe it’s best to save it for another day,” Luna says apologetically, glancing towards a Muggle customer in the corner. “But I’d love to hear yours, actually. These days I find myself hearing about your life more from the _Prophet_ than from you.” 

Ginny winces, but Luna cuts her off before she can respond. “Oh, no, I’m sure you’ve had a lot going on, it’s okay,” she says. She lays a hand on Ginny’s arm and leans in sympathetically. “How are you doing? With everything?”

Ginny doesn’t have to ask what she means. Of course Luna would’ve read about the breakup along with everyone else. “I’m fine,” she says, a little sharper than she’d wanted. “Really,” she adds, gentler. “Harry and I ended things mutually. It was for the best.”

Luna nods. “Why’d you end it?” she asks, and for some reason, the question doesn’t sound judgmental or nosy or pitying this time. It just sounds like the next thing to say.

“It mainly had to do with Harry being a bloke,” Ginny laughs. She doesn’t know what reaction she expected from Luna (maybe surprise? Confusion? A little disgust?), but it definitely isn’t the rush of tears she sees rise in her old friend’s eyes. She doesn’t know if she should mention it or play it off, but then the tears are being wiped away and Luna’s hand is back on her arm sympathetically.

“I’m happy you’re being yourself now,” Luna says firmly, and _oh,_ Ginny thinks. She flashes back to their third year, when Romilda Vane had gone around asking all the girls in their year which of the boys they liked. She remembers Luna asking, confused, why it had to be a boy that she liked. She remembers how the nicknames had gotten much worse than “Loony” after that, how Ginny had been one of the only friends to stick with her, how Luna had asked her, after Romilda had left, if it wasn’t normal for her to like everyone.

Ginny remembers all of this as vividly as yesterday, but she doesn’t bring it up. “Me too,” she says instead, and covers Luna’s hand with her own.

“Harry still thinks I’m making it up,” she admits. “As an excuse.”

“Why would he think that?” Luna asks, confused.

“Because I’ve never had a proper girlfriend, and there’s been so many guys in the past.” Ginny isn’t sure why she’s admitting this. It’s not usually something she can talk about.

“Well, that seems like an easy enough problem to fix,” Luna muses, but she doesn’t have a chance to clarify before she’s catching sight of the clock on the wall and suddenly jumping up. “Oh, dear me, it’s past closing time. I should really help Connor with those dishes, I suppose.”

“Right,” Ginny says, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I guess I’ll be going, then.”

“Oh, do you really have to?” Luna responds too quickly, and there’s something in the sigh of it that makes Ginny shake her head no.

“Tell you what,” she says. “You close up around here and I’ll get out of your way until you’re done. There’s a bar a few blocks down and I happen to know for a _fact_ that I owe you a drink.” Ginny dumps her empty cup in the trash and grabs a few napkins to wipe down the table. “That is, if you’re interested?” she asks, suddenly shy.

“I’d love that,” Luna says, and the smile she flashes her way erases any of Ginny’s doubts about her early morning at the office the next day.

And before she knows it, Ginny’s walking down the London streets with Luna’s arm hooked around hers as the blonde girl skips beside her. It’s odd but not unwelcome, how she seems to click with Luna as though the two had never stopped talking. As they walk, Luna is eager to tell her all about her summer trip to Wales to look for pronghorned dibblesmackers with her cousin, and every curious tangent she stumbles into reminds Ginny exactly why they had been friends. There’s simply no one else as _interesting_ as Luna, Ginny thinks. She could listen to her tell stories all night.

The bar is much busier than the cafe, and Ginny finds herself squeezing next to Luna, thigh to thigh, in order to fit on the bench. What little awkwardness the two had felt so far during their unexpected reunion is thoroughly melted away with a couple shots, and after a while Ginny loses track of who’s buying what for who. The only thing that seems to matter is the way every sip Luna takes makes her giggle and lean a little further into Ginny’s side, the way every sip that Ginny takes makes her wonder how she’d never noticed how her friend’s hair catches in the firelight.

“You’re beautiful,” she tells Luna, or maybe she just thinks it. It feels important to point out.

“You are too,” Luna says softly, or maybe Ginny imagines it. It’s a nice thought regardless.

What she doesn’t imagine, though, is how Luna leans in, agonizingly slow, and tips her head towards Ginny, and how Ginny surges forward to meet her. She isn’t imagining it when Luna twines her fingers through her hair, when she pulls the blonde into her lap, when a man across the bar whoops at them and she gives him the middle finger without stopping to look. This moment is for them and no one else, Ginny decides. 

She’s not imagining it when Luna tells her that they’re too drunk to Apparate and says that her house isn’t far anyway, when Luna barely has the door to her bedroom shut before Ginny’s attacking the buttons on her shirt and pushing both of them forward until they fall on the bed giggling, nothing but the moon outside the window to illuminate the scene. Luna looks even better by moonlight then she does by firelight. Ginny didn’t even think that was possible.

And Ginny isn’t imagining any of it, because quite frankly, her imagination isn’t nearly good enough to come up with the way Luna looks lying beneath her on a bed. It really happens and it’s beautiful and it’s enough to make Ginny forget, for a moment, everything she has lost in the last two years, because who is she to complain when she’s found all of _this_?

Ginny wakes the next morning with a splitting headache, as per usual. The way her mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and the girl curled on the bed beside her in nothing but a t-shirt is new, though. She combs through her memories of last night desperately, but they all seem to blur after arriving at the bar. _Surely we didn’t hook up without even going on a date first,_ she thinks, but then she’s not so sure. She watches the way Luna’s chest rises and falls in her sleep, and something in the peaceful rhythm of it helps to ebb the panic making its way through Ginny.

She stops to take stock of the room around her. The walls and ceiling are remarkably high and every inch of them is covered in paintings. There are chains of tiny depictions of people and animals (a few of which she doesn’t even recognize, possibly due to the fact that Luna might have invented them) and a breathtaking peachy sunrise serves as a background for it all. She recognizes Luna’s signature style and smiles to herself.

They’re not in the Burrow, she thinks, with a twinge of guilt as she realizes that her mother will have been wondering where she is. Ginny finds the pile of her things that she’d apparently left on the dresser the night before, and reaches for the ancient cell phone her father had managed to rewired and make compatible with magic. She waves her wand to dial the number and presses the phone against her ear, stepping into the hallway to let Luna sleep, but the phone only has to ring once before she’s pulling it as far away from her as possible and the earth-shattering terror of a frantic Molly Weasley is booming from the other end. Ginny only catches bits and pieces of the message (“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY” and “HIGH PAST TIME WE HEARD FROM YOU-” and “WORRIED SICK ALL NIGHT”), but it’s more than enough to justify the genuine apology that she rushes into as soon as her mother takes a breath.

“I’ll be home tonight,” she promises, and cuts the conversation off before her mother can ask who she spent the night with. _Now for the other lion,_ she thinks, opening the door to face Luna and the consequences of whatever they’d done last night.

Luna’s already up, her back to the door as she slips a sundress over her head. Ginny tries not to think too much about the glimpse she gets of the navy blue bra underneath it and clears her throat awkwardly.

“Oh!” Luna says happily, turning around. “You’re still here. I thought maybe I’d scared you off.”

Ginny laughs nervously and steps further into the room. “Of course not. I’m a Gryffindor, remember? Bravery is kind of our thing.”

“How could I forget?” Luna smiles. “I came to all those matches just to support your team, you know. I never really cared much for the game but I liked seeing you up there winning. I was so glad to hear you’d stuck with Quidditch after Hogwarts. It seemed to make you happy.”

“I’m not sure if reporting on the matches counts, but yeah, I like seeing the games and being in the thick of it again,” Ginny says, strangely touched by Luna’s loyalty. She’d never realized she’d had that much to do with the Ravenclaw girl’s regular attendance, but it was sweet.

“So,” Luna starts. 

_Here it is,_ Ginny thinks. _The confrontation._ She cuts her off before she can say it. “I was thinking,” she blurts, looking at the room around her.

Luna tilts her head. “Okay?” she prompts.

“You still live at home, right? I mean, that’s where we are right now?”

“Yes,” Luna answers. “Last night, we… you were too drunk to Apparate back to your house. Remember?”

 _That explains it,_ Ginny thinks. So they didn’t hook up after all. Just Luna being a kind soul and offering her sloshed friend a place to stay for the night. She can’t tell if she’s relieved or disappointed by the realization, but it does make things simpler. “Yeah, I remember,” she lies. “Crazy, huh?”

“Yes,” Luna says. Her voice is suddenly flat. “Crazy.”

Ginny pushes forward nervously, ignoring the nagging feeling that she’s missed something. “Well, so I was thinking. Harry owned our flat, you know, so I’m back at the Burrow these days. And I’ve been meaning to get my own place, but with rent as high as it is these days, I just can’t seem to afford it by myself. And I couldn’t think of anyone I could stand to split it with, but…” She gestures vaguely in Luna’s direction.

“Are you saying you want to move in with me?” Luna asks.

“Yes!” Ginny cries, quickly backtracking when she thinks of how it could sound. “No! I mean, yes, that’s what I’m saying, it’ll be perfect. What better friend to share a flat with?”

“Friend,” Luna repeats. There’s something in her tone of voice that Ginny can’t read.

“So… what do you say?” she asks. She feels weirdly nervous.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Luna says finally.

“Of course, take your time,” Ginny reassures. “Just consider it. You can have a room for your art, if you want, and I’ll have a space for my work…” Her voice trails off as she remembers what she’d normally be doing at this time of day. “Oh god, work! I’m late!”

She grabs her trousers from the floor and pulls them on, running a hand hastily through her hair and tucking her shirt in properly. “I’ve gotta go, Luna, but here-” She conjures a piece of paper and grabs a quill off the dresser to write down her address and number. “-you know where to find me,” she finishes, shoving the paper into Luna’s hands. And with a crack! she’s off, leaving Luna to stare at the space she’d just occupied and clutching at the slip of paper like a lifeline.


	2. could've sworn i'd loved you before

A few weeks later, as Luna moves the last few boxes into the flat, she’s still not sure exactly what had possessed her to tell Ginny yes. Volunteering to spend extended periods of time with the ginger seemed very counterproductive in Luna’s quest to finally get over the other girl. It had been bad enough in their schoolgirl days, watching Ginny and her string of boyfriends and wondering silently why she felt so very jealous of them all. She’d put the pieces together around year four and spent the rest of her time trying to ignore her feelings, seeing as Ginny was straight and taken and very much out of her league. A few years later and they’d fallen out of touch, life pulling them in different directions, and Luna had thought she’d seen the worst of it. She dated a boy from the coffee shop and a girl across town and a person she’d met in an art class who didn’t really qualify for either category, but none of them seemed to stick.

And then came Ginny Weasley, barrelling back into her life with a famous ex-boyfriend and a bottle of tequila, single and flirty and apparently not nearly as straight as they’d both thought. And they’d spent a night together, albeit a fuzzy one, and Luna had finally let herself think that maybe the two of them would get their heads on right and give this a try. But she’d woken up the next morning to an empty bed and Ginny refusing to acknowledge what had happened and Luna had tried to shove those feelings down once again. Clearly, the girl wasn’t interested when she was sober, and Luna tried not to take it too hard. She needed distance, probably, to get rid of the nervous lurch she still feels in her stomach whenever the other girl smiles at her. But that’s not what Ginny needs, apparently, because Ginny needs a roommate and here Luna is, offering her services.

Ginny sets the last of her own boxes down on the kitchen counter with a weary grin. “Well, it’s official. Can you believe it?” she asks. “We’ve got our own place. Our own rules.”

“What kind of rules?” Luna asks as she starts stacking dishes in a tiny cabinet.

“I suppose we’ll have to figure that out together,” Ginny considers. “Like, no smoking inside, no stealing my food without asking.”

“No bringing a hookup home without a heads up?” Luna suggests, only half joking, and Ginny’s head jerks up as she says it. The rule isn’t really for Luna’s usage as much as her sanity. She’s not one to make a move on someone unless she thinks there’s a chance of a relationship there, and no matter how nice it might be to have a partner right now, it wouldn’t be fair to get anyone else mixed up in her life until she’s entirely sure she’s over Ginny. 

“Right,” Ginny agrees after a second. “Heads ups are fine. And if all else fails, put a sock on the door, I guess.”

Luna tries not to think about coming home to the sounds of Ginny with someone else and pushes forward. “How are you with cleaning?” she asks.

“Better than I am with cooking,” Ginny laughs.

“Perfect,” she says. “I’ll take care of the meals when we’re both home then, and you do the dishes and help me keep the place in order.”

“It’s a deal.” Ginny offers her a hand, and they shake on it. “Do you reckon we should write up a contract or something?”

“No, I trust you,” Luna says. There’s a little more meaning in her words than she wants, but if Ginny notices she doesn’t comment on it.

A week or so passes of stepping around each other awkwardly and soon enough, they fall into a comfortable routine. Luna gets the guest room for her artwork, and takes advantage of the new space by having at least three projects going at a time. Ginny lets her leave her paints out on the bathroom sink and tries not to complain when she finds color-covered towels in the wash. Luna paints a mural on her bedroom walls, with promises to the landlord that she’ll paint over it when they move out, but it doesn’t matter much anyway. Most of the mural is inevitably covered by the stacks and stacks of books that she can’t seem to stop herself from buying. (She is a Ravenclaw, after all.) 

Luna keeps her part-time barista job and works on her art between weekend classes. Her life looks mostly the same, but with one key difference. Now when her shift ends, she comes home to Ginny crashed on the couch waiting to tell her stories about what the twat in IT said to her that day. Luna does her part around the flat and there are Saturday mornings (and Sunday afternoons, if she’s lucky) where it feels like she and Ginny have carved out a space just for them. She makes pancakes and tea and brings them up to Ginny’s room and they sit on the bed and Ginny lets Luna sketch her as they talk. 

Luna’s sketchbook has always been a record of who she’s been spending time around, and lately she flips through it to find pages and pages of Ginny. She draws Ginny flopped upside down on the couch, Ginny sitting on top of the kitchen counter with a cup of tea, Ginny twirling in a dress she’d dug out of the closet during the move. She’s not very good at staying still, but she quickly becomes Luna’s favorite model anyway.

And Ginny, for her part, falls into the new rhythm as well. She still gets up too early and works too late and finds herself wondering what the point of it all is, but she goes home knowing that Luna will be there in a few hours to ask about her day and press a wonderfully warm drink into her hands. She finds herself stocking up stories to tell her roommate during the day, imagining the best ways to retell her adventures even if she’ll never be as good at it as Luna is. Ginny’s got a desk in her room for weekend work, but she tries not to use it too much. Not because she minds, but because Luna will pout at her if she does. The flat is far quieter than she’s used to without her parents chattering away or her brothers on her heels, but she wakes up to the sound of Luna humming in the kitchen over a coffee pot every morning so she really can’t complain.

Luna’s happy. Not perfectly so, but sometimes, when she’s especially sleepy or just tired of being alone, she lets herself imagine that this is what it would be like if she and her roommate really were dating. She keeps those thoughts in her head for the most part, but she does slip up every once in a while. She’ll hand Ginny her drink with a kiss on the top of her head, or see her off to bed with a “goodnight, love” that wasn’t meant to be said out loud. Ginny doesn’t seem to mind. It’s really almost everything that Luna would want in a relationship anyway, so why can’t she just accept her fate and be happy? 

She knows why. Ginny keeps her promise and respects the sock on the door rule, but Luna still sees more than she cares to dwell on. It’s never the same girl twice, and they never stay for breakfast, but Luna still finds clothes in the laundry sometimes that she has no memory of either of them buying. There’s always a pang and maybe a quiet tear and then a stern lecture where Luna tells herself that Ginny owes her absolutely nothing and as long as she’s being safe, it’s all fair game. The lecture doesn’t really help but Luna feels the need to do it anyway. And all things considered, Luna thinks she’s doing alright at keeping her feelings to herself. Ginny is clearly doing just fine without her. It’ll have to be enough.

But there is one thing that shakes Ginny up more than anything. She’s got an ex, a Quidditch player for the Harpies named Margo, who seems to have made it her personal mission to make Ginny’s life hell. The two were only together for a month and a half, some kind of rebound after things had fallen apart with Harry, but Margo is relentless in her attempts to regain the ginger’s attention. And Ginny can handle herself, of course, but as a Qudditich correspondent, she runs into Margo a lot and she always comes home drained. Luna hates to see it. On Margo-days, Ginny doesn’t have stories to tell. On Margo-days, she shuts herself up in her room and says it’s for work, and she and Luna both politely pretend like they can’t hear the sound of her crying to Bachelor reruns and Taylor Swift.

So Luna starts paying attention to Quidditch again, and watching the game schedules for when the Harpies are playing so she knows when a Margo-day is coming up. She comes home with an extra-sweet drink those nights and tries to get Ginny to talk, but none of it makes a difference until one Margo-day when Luna takes off work and shows up outside Ginny’s office.

“Luna, what-” Ginny starts to protest, but Luna holds up a finger.

“Don’t try to stop me,” she warns. “I know there’s a Harpies game today and I’m tired of watching you do this alone.” She holds up the spare ticket. “I’m coming with you.”

Luna really expected more protest from her, something along the lines of “so you think I can’t handle my job by myself,” but Ginny just stares at her with something new in her eyes and says “okay.” 

“Oh. Good. That’s settled then,” Luna says, and takes Ginny’s arm out of habit as they Apparate to the pitch. “I’ll wait in the stands,” she tells Ginny, seeing the crowd of journalists ahead. Ginny meets her a few minutes later, slipping into the seat silently. Her foot is jumping and she’s tapping the pen against her leg as she waits for the game to begin. Luna’s never seen her quite like this. Ginny stiffens beside her when Margo comes flying out to uproarious cheers, and Luna swears she sees the Quidditch player sneer in their direction from above.

Ginny’s a wreck the whole match, taking notes furiously like she’s afraid to stop and look at the players above her, but every once in a while she glances at Luna and tries to smile. It’s a start, she supposes.

Ginny interviews a few of the players after the match, and Luna stands back to let her work. It’s sensory overload down in the press tent, with cameras flashing and people laughing and talking over each other. It isn’t hard to see why this would drain Ginny so much, she thinks. Ginny’s nearly through the rounds and made a clean escape when Margo comes through the entrance and the atmosphere in the entire tent shifts. The Quidditch player scans the tent and makes a beeline for Ginny as soon as she sees her. Luna tenses. _This will be interesting._

It takes a couple minutes for Luna to cut across the tent to where the two are talking, but that’s all it takes. Margo and Ginny stand glaring at each other, challenge written all over their stances, and Luna decides it’s time to intervene. 

“Hello,” she says, slipping an arm around Ginny’s waist reassuringly. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” she lies for the sake of saying something.

“Why of course,” Margo says with a smirk. “Weasley and I have… quite the history. But I’m not surprised she hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Margo, this is Luna,” Ginny says stiffly.

“Hi. I’m her girlfriend,” Luna offers helpfully. 

She’s not entirely sure why she says it. Maybe it’s because Margo has been looking Ginny up and down since she walked into the tent, maybe it’s because Ginny is standing with her arms crossed and looking so stubborn and small, but it just slips out. And no matter how much shit she’ll be getting from Ginny for this when they get home, Luna decides that the range of emotions that flick across Margo’s face makes it all worth it. There’s surprise and confusion and a touch of envy and then nothing.

Finally, the Quidditch player settles on a disinterested sneer. “Well, I’d never thought I’d see the day. The almighty independent Ginny Weasley with a _girlfriend._ And here I thought you didn’t do labels,” Margo says, clicking her tongue.

“Maybe I just needed to find the right girlfriend,” Ginny says. It comes out quietly, but her voice grows fiercer with every word, and Margo’s face drops as she keeps talking. “And for your information, _Luna_ and I-” Ginny says, turning Luna’s face toward her and smacking a rough kiss against her cheek “-are _very_ happy together, labels and all, and we really must be getting back home now. So if you’ll excuse us,” she says, and Disapparates, taking Luna with her with a crack! and back in their flat they stand. 

As soon as the tent is out of sight, Ginny drops Luna’s hand and backs against the wall, a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my god. That-” she says, and Luna’s already opening her mouth, apology ready, “-was amazing.”

Luna shuts her mouth.

“Did you see the look on her face?” Ginny cackles. “Oh, that was perfect, Luna, now she’ll _have_ to leave me alone at games! I can finally write in peace again. God, that’s brilliant, why didn’t we think of it earlier? Faking a relationship to get my ex off my back? Be honest, Luna, did you steal that idea from one of your novels?” Ginny’s fully aware that she’s babbling, but she’s too caught up in the rush of the moment to notice the way Luna’s shoulders have sagged under the weight of her last few comments.

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Luna says weakly. She’s sure her cheeks are a red to rival a Gryffindor scarf from the kiss Ginny had dropped there, and she tries not to read too much into it. _She’s just happy to be rid of Margo,_ Luna lectures herself sternly. _It doesn’t mean anything._

Ginny goes quiet for a moment, and Luna panics for a second that her roommate’s suddenly gained the power of a Legilimens and read that last thought off her. But then Ginny’s eyes are widening and the hand is back over her mouth. “What is it?” Luna asks, concerned.

“The reporters,” she whispers in muted horror. “Oh god, that match was swimming with reporters, what’s wrong with me? The last thing we need are tomorrow’s gossip columns all ranting about how Harry Potter’s ex is with a woman.” Ginny’s eyes shut tightly as the implications slowly set in. “They’ll spin it out into something overblown and dramatic, they always do. They’ll say the Chosen One’s turned me gay or something ridiculous and word will get back to my bosses and-and-” 

Luna sets her hands firmly on Ginny’s shoulders. “Breathe, love,” she reminds her gently. “They’ll find some other scandal in a few days. We’ll be alright,” she promises, but Ginny’s shaking now.

“Oh, come here,” Luna says, giving into her instincts despite herself and wrapping her arms all the way around the smaller girl. Ginny leans into the embrace, eyes still wide with panic but her breathing is slowly becoming more regular. “We’ll be alright,” Luna says again, trying to convince herself as well. “We’ll be alright.”

And they are. The papers are giddy at their luck for a few days, but Ginny and Luna keep their heads down, and then some other celebrity has an affair to follow and the cycle continues. Really, the reporters aren’t their top concern. 

Molly Weasley is.


	3. stand a little too close to me

Normally, Ginny would like to consider herself a fairly courageous person. She’s a Gryffindor, after all, and after witnessing Voldemort’s defeat at the age of seventeen, there really wasn’t much left to be afraid of. She’s dueled with Death Easters, been possessed by the Dark Lord, walked through hell and back on bare feet, and she’s come out alive through all of it. There is exactly one thing left on earth that can still scare Ginny Weasley, and that is her mother.

Ginny thinks it must be a record, the full minute that Molly manages to yell at her without once taking a breath. She can’t do much but wait for a chance to explain as Molly goes on and on about how humiliating and hurtful it is to find out about your daughter’s girlfriend through the morning paper. When Molly finally does stop yelling, it’s only to tell Ginny what a lovely girl she thinks that Luna is and how happy she is that she’s stopped her moping about after the breakup and started to settle down.

“Mum, it’s not like that, Luna and I-” she tries.

“-are a perfectly lovely couple, Ginny, don’t start with me,” Molly cuts her off. “Now you could’ve had the courtesy to tell us earlier, it would’ve made things so much easier to straighten out, but Victoire and I have it all arranged now so don’t you worry. Luna can sit at the head table with you at the reception, that’s fine, but the house will be a tighter squeeze-”

Shit. The wedding. Ginny doesn’t know how she’d managed to let it slip her mind that her niece is getting married in barely a month and she’s meant to be a bridesmaid, and that of course her mother would go to all kinds of lengths to make sure Luna could come, but now she has no idea how to get out of it. 

“-shouldn’t be a problem?” There’s a pause as Molly waits expectantly for the answer to a question Ginny hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, no, that’s all fine, Mum, but the thing is-” she starts again.

“Perfect! We’ll see both of you in May, then,” Molly says, and then she’s hanging up and leaving Ginny to stare at the phone with absolutely no idea what she’s just agreed to. People often tell Ginny that she is a force of nature, but it’s inherited. If she is a thunderstorm, then Molly’s a hurricane, whipping through town and rearranging the buildings however she likes. Ginny’s trapped.

When Luna gets home that night, Ginny’s not sure how to tell her that their fake relationship might be put to the test once more. She means to do it, really, but Luna’s in such a good mood when she comes through the door, and Ginny can’t bring herself to break it. 

Luna’s humming as she throws together some pasta for dinner, and for a moment Ginny just stands in the doorway and watches her work. Even though her recipe for the alfredo sauce had only required a few pinches of flour, Luna’s somehow managed to spread the rest of the bag on everything from the counter-tops to the cookbook to herself. Luna always dances when she cooks, Ginny’s noticed, but never to a melody anyone else can hear. She doesn’t play music, but she spins from counter to counter as she chops and steps back and forth in time when she hovers from saucepan to pot. Ginny thinks it’s adorable. 

“Care to join?” Luna sings more than says when she catches Ginny leaning against the wall watching.

“As long as the saucepan doesn’t mind me cutting in,” she returns with an overly apologetic glance towards the stove. “May I have this dance?” she asks with a grand bowing gesture that goes a little too far forward and nearly tips her into Luna.

“Only if you don’t knock me into the stove,” Luna laughs, but she takes Ginny’s hands anyway. It’s only awkward for a moment, as Ginny tries to figure out where her hands go and how she should be standing, but she lets Luna take the lead and abduct her into the rhythm. 

It really shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does, Ginny thinks, dancing with her best friend in the kitchen with nothing but the sound of boiling water as background music. But Luna’s eyes are so bright and staring into hers as she steers them around the island counter, and she’s got just a dusting of flour on her cheek that Ginny’s longing to wipe away. She could rub it away with her thumb and use it as an excuse to lean in, just a little, see if Luna looks down at her lips, tilt her head just a little and leave it up to her to finish closing the gap. 

The thought won’t go away, but Ginny keeps it to herself. Because as much as the Wizarding World seems to buy it, the idea of her and Luna together is crazy, isn’t it? Luna’s never made a move and Ginny’s never really thought about it before today. Except the more she thinks about it now, the less she’s convinced that she hasn’t been taking notes this entire time. Without asking, her brain pulls up a folder labelled Things To Love About Luna and waves it in front of her mockingly. There’s no shortage of bullet points there, but Ginny shoves it back in the filing cabinet. What she and Luna have right now is more than enough, she decides. They’re happy, right here, right now, and Ginny can’t be the one to mess that up.

All too soon their impromptu waltz is cut off as one of the pots boils over and Luna runs to the stove with a cry. Ginny is roped into being the sous chef and she lets Luna direct her, grabbing a spoon from here and spices from there, and then they’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor (they never did get around to buying a table).

Luna is full of stories tonight and happy to spin them out as Ginny nods, privately at a loss as to how to bring up the wedding. Luna’s halfway through telling her about the last sweet customer she’d had when she realizes that Ginny’s attention is elsewhere.

“Hey,” she says gently, laying a hand on her wrist the way she always does to get Ginny out of her head. “Everything okay in there?”

“My mother thinks we’re dating,” Ginny says without preamble. “And I… I didn’t correct her.”

“Okay,” Luna says, just a touch of hesitation in her voice. She doesn’t seem to be mad, so that’s a start.

“I think I got us roped into going to Victoire and Teddy’s wedding,” Ginny says, just to get it over with. “As a couple. And I don’t know how to get out of it.” She buries her head in her hands. “They’ve already rearranged everything to make room for us, and they’re so excited to meet you again, and I don’t know what to _tell them._ ”

“Why do we have to tell them anything?” Luna asks. 

Ginny stares. “Luna, you don’t know what you’re getting into. I love my family but you know how they get, there’ll be all these cousins you don’t know and we’re meant to stay up there the whole weekend. Harry will be there, and Ron, and my mother with her questions and she’ll be interrogating you the whole time. I can’t ask you to deal with all that.”

“So don’t ask,” Luna shrugs. “I volunteer.”

“But… why?”

“Ginny, I know family is hard for you right now,” Luna sighs. “You need support. I’ve seen how they get to you sometimes, even if they mean only the best, and I don’t want to have to see you do it alone. So… I’d be honored to come. As your fake girlfriend, as your roommate, as your friend, however you want me. If you need me, Ginny… I’m there.”

For what seems to be the hundredth time that day, Ginny doesn’t know what to say. Luna’s looking at her with something in her eyes that she’s never seen before, and for the first time Ginny thinks that maybe she could find answers there if she knew what questions she wanted to ask. She wants to kiss her. A quiet “thank you, Luna,” and a silent hug that lasts a little too long doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all that Ginny can offer right now.

The month before the wedding flies by far too fast, and soon Ginny finds herself standing in front of a fireplace clutching Luna’s spare suitcase with a clump of Floo powder in her hand. There’s a _woosh_ and then another and then Luna’s right next to her on the other side, taking in the room around them. Teddy and Victoire had wanted a seaside wedding, for reasons Ginny would never understand, and the family had squished everyone into one enormous beach house for the weekend.

No sooner has Ginny set the bags down then she finds herself being crushed by a mob of redheaded nieces and nephews and some of the tinier cousins, laughing as she pries them off just enough that she can breathe. The chorus of “Aunt Ginny! Aunt Ginny!” draws enough attention for Molly to bustle over and swat them away, and then she’s just as bad as the children, claiming her daughter for another crushing hug.

“Oh, it feels like it’s been years,” Molly says, drawing back to examine her daughter’s face.

“I’ve missed you too, Mum,” Ginny says, and Molly nods. She sees Luna, standing just off to the side and watching the reunions with a smile, and grabs her for a hug as well.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Luna,” Molly says emphatically. “It’s about time Ginny brought you around!”

“Mum!” Ginny complains.

“Right, I’ll let you have your girlfriend back,” Molly laughs and lets the blonde go. Luna sends a grateful look in Ginny’s direction and tries to discreetly rub some feeling back into her arms. Ginny reaches for her hand and squeezes it reassuringly, trying to keep a steady face. _Act like we’ve done it a hundred times,_ she thinks, and refuses to wish that they really had.

Victoire is the next to breeze by, offering both girls a quick hug and directions up the stairs and to the left to their room. “We’re so happy both of you could come,” she says before she’s whisked off for more last minute wedding business, and Luna likes her immediately.

Their room is small, as they’d expected, but it does have the added advantage of a tiny washroom of their own and a door that connects to the balcony that wraps around this side of the house. The walls are a shade of blue so light that it nearly qualifies as white and edged with sea shells that Ginny traces absentmindedly as she waits for Luna to take the first shower.

There’s only one bed. This bothers Ginny a little more than it probably should. It won’t be the first time that she and Luna have shared, but she thinks about waking up to the other girl curled up beside her again and she can’t help but remember the night at the bar, or what little bits have stuck in her memory. Her mouth feels sour when she thinks about the way Luna looked at her the next day, the way she’d distanced herself for a week afterward. Ginny always seems to mess this part up. _The one time a relationship lasts,_ she thinks, _and it’s with a bloke._ Maybe she’s just not meant to get this far.

Luna comes out of the washroom with her hair in a loose wet braid and nothing but a towel besides. Ginny tries not to let her mouth drop. It’s a very good look. “Left my clothes out here,” Luna says sheepishly, grabbing the first thing she can find out of her suitcase and ducking back into the other room.

It’s going to be a very long weekend.


	4. but tell me if you're wanting more

Ginny had braced herself for waking up next to Luna. She’d already pictured the feel of her breath on her cheek, maybe a moment of uncomfortable warmth before one or both of them pulls away. What she had failed to prepare herself for, though, was waking up on top of Luna.

She also didn’t imagine how good it would feel.

Luna’s lying on her side, her face smushed down into the pillow, as far on the other side of the bed as she could be without rolling off of it entirely. Ginny is flush against her back, an arm draped across the girl’s hip and a leg hooked over her thighs. It’s like she was trying to bribe Luna into giving her a piggyback ride in her sleep. They probably look ridiculous, but Ginny feels a weird tightness in her chest anyway.

Luna is always beautifully serene, but there’s something about seeing her completely at rest like this that’s captivating. Sunlight streaks through cracks in the blinds and hits Ginny’s eyes; she pretends that this is the only reason that makes her turn away from the window and bury herself further into Luna’s side.

“Morning,” Luna says sleepily, words half muffled by the pillow, and Ginny tries not to jerk away at the sound. Why does she feel like she’s been caught? She hums in response and stays where she is. It takes her a few seconds to realize that she’s been playing with Luna’s hair, stroking the wisps that have escaped her braid from the night before. She drops the braid, but she doesn’t sit up. Luna stays where she is too, which Ginny decides is proof that either she doesn’t mind their current position or is just too damn sleep-deprived to protest.

Luna arcs her back just slightly, stretching, and Ginny’s hand slides across her waistline as the other girl shifts. _Woah._ A few inches further and her hand would be on Luna’s ass, she thinks, and it’s this realization that finally shocks her back to reality. Ginny reluctantly draws away and sits up.

“You ready for today?” Luna asks, rolling over to face her.

“As I’ll ever be,” Ginny responds, decidedly not thinking about everything that could go wrong, having her ex and her mother and her fake girlfriend all in the same room. She’s very aware of Luna’s eyes tracing her movement as she works her around the room getting her things ready for the day. 

“I’m gonna go grab a shower,” she says, absentmindedly kissing Luna’s cheek on her way out. She doesn’t even realize that she’s done it until she’s halfway undressed and checking the water’s temperature, and when she does, she feels like melting down the drain too. _This game is getting to my head,_ she thinks. She doesn’t know when she’d stopped thinking about Luna as her fake date, but it’s getting dangerous. 

Luna’s already downstairs by the time Ginny is done in the washroom, so she heads down to the kitchen to see who else is up. She’s stopped short by the sound of Luna and Molly talking quietly, and against her better judgment, she pauses outside the door to listen.

“-just worry about her, you know,” Molly is saying softly. “Ginny’s never been one to slow down and take care of herself, and after the breakup… I think she takes it personally. Just- you’ve been around her, do you think she’s doing okay?”

“I think she’s doing great,” Luna says proudly. Ginny smiles. “She’s been reconnecting with people. Me among them, obviously, but we had Neville and Hannah over for dinner a few weeks ago and it was lovely. And I know her last few articles for the _Prophet_ haven’t come out yet, but I’ve seen her working on them and I can already tell you that her writing has never been better. She’s been working at taking breaks, too, she comes and sees me at _Beanie’s_ on her lunch sometimes, so don’t worry about her overworking herself.”

There’s a pause as Luna tries to think of what else is worth saying.

“You know I hadn’t heard her laugh in weeks until you two got here?” Molly says thoughtfully. “You’re good for her, Luna. Take care of my girl.”

And with the emotion in her mother’s voice, Ginny decides that she’s listened long enough. She makes sure to creak the floorboards extra loudly so both women are aware of her presence before she walks into the kitchen. “Morning, Mum,” she says, smiling at the sight of her roommate and her mother each huddled over a cup of coffee by the window.

“Morning, dear,” Molly replies, pouring her a cup too.

“What, I don’t get a good morning?” Luna pouts, a hand over her chest in mock hurt.

“Honey, if you haven’t already noticed my presence this morning then something has gone horribly wrong,” Ginny says with a smirk, playing it up, painfully aware of her mother glancing back and forth between the two girls.

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Luna says. Her voice is a little deeper than usual, not that Ginny cares or anything. “It’s more about the time you’ve spent away from me than the time you’ve spent with me,” she continues.

Ginny drops down onto the seat next to her and laughs. “Well then I’m terribly sorry for needing a shower. How ever shall I make it up to you?” She kisses Luna’s hand for effect.

“I can think of a few ways,” Luna says suggestively, pulling Ginny’s hand toward her.

Molly clears her throat pointedly. 

_Oops,_ Ginny thinks, refusing to dwell on the possibilities that Luna’s last comment had opened up. They might’ve gone a little too hard on the sell, but it’s worked. Her mother is rolling her eyes affectionately at the two of them and standing up to refill her coffee.

“Hey,” Luna whispers when Molly is out of earshot. She grabs Ginny’s arm and loops it around her shoulders, leaning into her side. “This okay?”

“Definitely,” Ginny confirms. Luna’s smile in response is a particular kind of blinding that makes Ginny wonder what she has to do to get to see it more often.

The rest of the family staggers down in pairs after that, and before Ginny knows it, she’s being forced into a chair to have her hair braided and pinned up and Luna’s in another room helping with someone’s eyeliner. It’s a lovely morning and Luna decides to walk to the wedding site rather than Apparate, so Ginny doesn’t get to say goodbye before she’s ushered off to complete her bridesmaid duties.

The wedding is breathtaking. Victoire and Molly have everything worked out down to the shade of the cloth napkins matching the curtains, and it all goes off without a hitch. Despite the complicated situation, Ginny’s glad she’s there as she helps Victoire drape her train just right and adjust the veil before the ceremony begins. The music starts up from outside the tent where the bridesmaids are standing, and everyone bursts into tears at once. 

“I’m really doing this,” Victoire whispers as she stares at the tent flaps. “I’m getting married.” Unsure of what to say, Ginny just hands her a tissue and tries not to ruin her mascara herself. 

“I’m getting married to the love of my life,” Victoire says firmer as she dabs at her face and settles her shoulders.

Ginny squeezes her niece’s hand as her cue in the music comes on and she slips away to make her path down the aisle. It’s a beautiful view, she has to admit. The waves are just in sight behind the makeshift altar, and Teddy’s face is beaming as he waits for his bride to join them, but the best thing in Ginny’s admittedly biased opinion is the way Luna looks, beaming at her from her seat. She finishes her walk, grateful not to have worn heels to the sandy runway, and takes her place by the altar. 

She gets emotional again when Victoire walks out, clutching her bouquet for dear life and glowing when she sees Teddy standing there. Even if Ginny hadn’t grown up with Victoire as practically a younger sister and been there every time the girl gushed about the man she was now marrying, anyone could have seen the love between the two as they stood across from each other reciting vows. 

The ceremony reaches its teary conclusion, and then Ginny is whisked off for pictures with the bridal party, and then for pictures with the family, and then a pre-reception private lunch where both the bride and groom down a little more Firewhiskey than is probably proper. After an eternity of posing, she’s finally free and walking into the reception to comb the crowd for her date.

Luna isn’t hard to find, partially because of the orange and yellow dress she’d worn (something to do with good luck, she’d said) and partially because of the way her face lights up at the sight of Ginny and waves her over. 

“You’re beautiful,” Ginny tells her as soon as they’re in earshot, and she means it. She’s got a vague idea in her head that a few years ago she might’ve found that dress embarrassing, but Luna is nothing but radiant with her long hair around her in wisps and enormous silvery earrings that almost match the brightness in her eyes.

“You are too,” Luna says, but she drops her eyes. Ginny feels like she’s missed something again, but she can’t tell what. _It’ll make more sense with a drink,_ she tells herself, even though time has proved this theory laughably false, and she’s off to get them both some punch.

When Ginny makes her way back through the crowd with drinks in hand, Luna’s got company. A brunette she’s never seen before is running a hand down the girl’s arm and tossing her hair back with a laugh. Everything in Ginny bristles.

“Here’s your drink, _darling,_ ” she says with a pointed look at the other woman as she hands the cup off to Luna. 

“Oh, thank you,” Luna says sweetly, and Ginny can’t help but hold her now-empty hand out for her date to grab. _We’re supposed to be a couple,_ she rationalizes. It’s all about keeping up appearances. (It has absolutely nothing to do with the jolt in her stomach when Luna doesn’t hesitate to take her hand.)

She can pinpoint the exact moment the hope in the brunette’s eyes fades as they dart back and forth from Ginny to Luna to their clasped hands, and can’t help but feel a slight thrill of victory. 

“It was lovely to meet you, but I think I’ll be getting a drink of my own now,” the woman says, and falls back into the crowd.

“Care to dance?” Ginny says quickly before Luna can ask what that was all about.

Luna’s eyes light up. “I thought you’d never ask.” They finish off the punch and claim a slot on the dancefloor. Neither of them know what song is playing as they start to sway together, but it doesn’t really matter. The melody is slow but it soars, taking Ginny and Luna with it until she could’ve sworn they were the only ones there. Ginny’s only slightly more graceful on the dancefloor than she is in the kitchen, but Luna more than makes up for it.

There’s a sudden flash of light from the side, and the spell is broken. “Sorry to startle you,” the photographer apologizes, lowering his camera. “You just looked so cute together.”

“Hear that?” Ginny teases as the photographer leaves. “We make a damn good couple.”

“Yeah,” Luna says, but she drops her eyes again. Ginny frowns. _Do I really make her that uncomfortable?_

The thought is driven away as quickly as it comes by the sight of Harry across the hall. “Shit,” she blurts accidentally. The aunts and uncles with children nearby glare at her, but Ginny’s too preoccupied to care. “Harry’s here,” she says in answer to Luna’s questioning look.

The words are barely out of her mouth before Luna is kissing her. Ginny blinks for a second, taken aback, and then she’s lost in the feel of it, Luna wrapped around her and hands in her hair and messing up all those careful braids. It lasts long enough that the aunts and uncles are probably glaring at her again, but Ginny can’t bring herself to care. _Why the hell didn’t we do this sooner,_ she wonders.

Luna pulls back and gives her a breathless smile. “Harry was watching,” she says, and Ginny’s stomach plummets. “You did say he didn’t believe you about liking women, right?” Luna asks, searching her face. “So here’s his proof.”

Luna’s only being kind, she knows, but it doesn’t stop the wave of nausea that hits Ginny as she tells herself that all of it is fake. The “darling’s,” the dancing, the kissing. None of it’s going to last.

Ginny feels a hand tap her shoulder and she whips around to tell whoever is on the other end of it that now really isn’t the time, thank you, but the sick feeling resurges when she sees Harry’s hopeful face.

“Hi, Ginny,” he says.

“Hi,” she offers weakly. Neither of them know what to say next, but luckily it seems that Luna does.

“Harry!” she says brightly, stepping in for a hug. “It’s been a while.”

“Good to see you, Luna,” he says with the closest thing to a genuine smile that Ginny’s seen on him since they broke up. “I hear you two are a thing now? How’d that happen?”

Ginny winces at the reminder of the articles the _Prophet’s_ been running lately, but once again Luna knows how to respond.

“Oh, Ginny crashed back into my life a few months ago at the coffee shop I work at,” she says. “It was really rather simple after that.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Harry says. Ginny thinks he might really mean it. “Listen, Gin-” he starts, and then frowns and stops again with a glance toward Luna. “Can we talk?” he says finally.

Ginny looks to Luna too, which is silly because it’s not as though she needs her permission, but Luna seems to nod and Ginny takes it as a sign that it’s the right thing to do. “Yeah, Harry, we can talk.”

Harry visibly relaxes. “Can we find someplace a little quieter?” 

The two leave the reception hall in favor of a walk back toward the beach, and Ginny kicks her shoes off to walk in the sand. It’s quieter out there, and calmer, and when the first wave of salt air hits her, Ginny lets go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asks, feeling a little more prepared to have this conversation.

Harry stops walking. “I miss you, Gin.” He tries to make eye contact but Ginny stares at the sand resolutely. “I just- we used to be friends, before all this. And I hate that we’ve let it push us apart.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. It’s a familiar habit and Ginny feels a pang at the sight of it. “Can we be friends again?” he asks.

Ginny lets her memory replay all the years she’s known him, from that first awkward breakfast in the Burrow to her obsession with him at school to the first time she’d managed to successfully hold a conversation without being nervous. She remembers playing Quidditch together, and laughing with him and Hermione and Ron, and the devastation she’d felt watching Hagrid carry his slumped body up the hill during the battle and thinking that she’d really lost him for good this time. And even after graduation when things got a little harder, when Ginny started to distance herself more and stay at work later so she wouldn’t have to come home to a man she couldn’t look at the same, even when there was fighting and blaming and confusion and hurt, all of it was better than the aching radio silence she’s had from him ever since. 

She really does miss him. Not the fighting, not the sex, not the stubborn way he always walked away from an argument, but everything in between.

“I’d like to try,” Ginny says eventually. It’s as much as he’s going to get. She thinks Harry might be crying, but she lets him rub underneath his glasses without comment.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Um, Ron and I have a game night, twice a month at his place, and we get a little drunk and forget to play the games sometimes, but you’d be welcome to join us, next time? If you want. And Hermione’s there, you can bring Luna if she’s interested, and we can… try it. Being friends again.”

“We’ll be there,” Ginny promises. “I miss you too, Harry.” 

The conversation devolves into small talk as they catch each other up on their lives for the last few months, but it’s starting to feel natural again. Once again, Ginny’s forced to admit that she’s glad she came. After a moment, she realizes that her presence will have been missed at the reception by now, and she makes her slightly awkward goodbyes to Harry (he goes in for a handshake, she tries for a hug, and they end up attempting to do both at the same time). 

Her thoughts are a whirl on the walk back, a mess of Harry and game nights and bringing Luna along as her girlfriend. It sounds wonderful, but Ginny frowns when she realizes that after the wedding, she won’t really have an excuse to keep dragging her roommate along to events. They haven’t talked about the inevitable fake breakup yet, but Ginny knows that it wouldn’t be fair for her to keep Luna hanging on forever. _What if I’m holding her back? What if Luna wants to get her own date?_ she thinks. Everything in her rebels at the thought. But of course Luna is allowed to spend time with whoever she wants, she’s her own person- it’s just that, Ginny realizes, she wants it to be with her.

 _Oh._ It’s starting to all make sense now. Ginny thinks back over the last few days. Waking up with a hand on Luna’s hip, seeing the girl bond with her mother, the dancing, the kissing. She thinks about the kissing a lot. It had felt right, having Luna in her arms, entirely for herself. She could smack herself when it all comes together.

 _I’m an idiot,_ she thinks, _and I’m in love with Luna._ She starts walking a little faster. She has to find Luna and say something, she just doesn’t know what yet. Ginny tries to picture what Luna will say back, but it’s different every time she runs through the conversation in her head. There’s a version where Luna slaps her, a version where she stares, a version where she Apparates and drags Ginny off to their bedroom… She really doesn’t know what Luna will do, but she knows that the other girl has been nothing but kind and warm and supportive ever since she’d met her in school, and she thinks they’ll be okay.

Ginny takes a deep breath before she walks into the reception hall. _Time to ruin a friendship,_ she thinks cheerfully, and scans the room for Luna. It's about time they had a talk.


	5. the part where i mess it all up

Despite the yellow dress, it’s much harder to find Luna this time. She’s still just as bright as she was before, but she is also currently pinned to the ground by a swarm of red-headed children all listening attentively as she animatedly recalls the time she ran into a yellowbellied thweep in West Africa.

“-which is why you should never grab a thweep by the ears,” Luna’s explaining as the children nod seriously. Ginny feels her heart swell as she watches the girl tell stories surrounded by children she’s never met, perfectly at home making little Louis giggle and letting Minnie eagerly tug on her sleeve to ask a question. Luna smiles as she catches sight of Ginny, and makes her excuses as she tries to pull away, but the children will have none of it.

“Tell us about how you caught the thweep, Aunt Luna,” Minnie begs.

“I’ll finish the story next time,” Luna promises, rustling the little girl’s hair as she stands.

“Aunt Luna?” Ginny asks with a raised eyebrow. She likes the way it sounds.

Luna laughs sheepishly. “They came up with it, not me. By the way,” she says, leaning in as if to tell Ginny a secret. “We never did catch the thweep.”

It’s an absurd thing to send her heart beating wildly, but Luna being that close to her face always seems to have this effect. Ginny’s resigned to it. She sends a glance back at the slowly dispersing crowd of children behind them. “Better not tell Minnie that part,” she advises.

“Why do you think I ended the story there?” Luna says with a wink and wow, Ginny should not find that as attractive as she does. She winds her fingers through Luna’s and lets herself forget for a moment that it isn’t real. It’s the happiest day of her niece’s life, she thinks she can indulge herself for a minute while she figures out what to say. 

She tries to phrase it. _Hey, Luna, so you know how you’re my best friend and I would literally do anything for you? Well, it turns out that this whole time we’ve been roommates and fake dating I’ve actually been head over heels for you, except I’m just an idiot and avoided thinking about it so now you probably think I’ve been manipulating you into doing this, which I swear I haven't! And I know you haven’t really given me any sign that you want to kiss me when there isn’t anybody watching but I kind of really want an excuse to, so maybe get dinner with me sometime?_

Oh god. She’s gonna mess this up so badly.

The hall is slowly emptying out by this point, all the protesting toddlers being dragged away to their naps by their exhausted parents and only the closer family left to mingle. But the music still winds around them, and Luna sways gently to it as they stand.

“That reminds me,” Ginny says impulsively. “I think I still owe you a dance, seeing as the last one was interrupted.” Dancing is easier than talking, which is saying something because Ginny has yet to do a box step without tripping over her own feet.

Luna puts an arm around her waist by way of response, and they’re off, Ginny trusting her not to steer them into a table or a small child. Molly sends an approving glance their way but Ginny tunes everyone else out, focusing on the feel of Luna so close to her. It’s not real, she reminds herself again, but it feels like it. 

Luna’s eyes drop down to her lips and back up to her eyes to ask permission, and this time Ginny’s expecting it when the other girl leans in to kiss her. But she still isn’t prepared for the tenderness of it, the way Luna sighs against her and pulls her in just a little closer. _I want this,_ Ginny thinks, and it aches. _I want this for real._

“Luna,” she says, but the girl shakes her head slightly.

“Please don’t make me say it,” Luna whispers, but Ginny pushes on anyway.

“Luna,” she says again, and this time the girl says nothing. But now that Luna’s looking at her, a mixture of emotions in her eyes that she just can’t read, all the words Ginny had tested out earlier have disappeared and she doesn’t know where to start. 

The music has stopped, the DJ is unplugging cords, and the hall around them is abandoned. There’s no one around to see them, but Ginny kisses her again, just because she wants to. It’s easier than talking and there is the distinct advantage of having Luna so close to her. She tastes like punch and cake and Ginny decides that this is the best idea she’s had in a long time.

Luna stares at her as she pulls away and takes in the empty space around them. “There’s no else here,” she says slowly.

Ginny smiles. “I know. That’s why I did it.”

Luna’s brows furrow as she tries to understand.

“I love you, Luna,” Ginny says. It’s probably not the best place to start, but it’s the one coherent thought in Ginny’s brain as she tries to phrase it. The words hang in the air between them. Their hands had fallen apart at some point during their most recent kiss, so Ginny claims them again and meets Luna’s eyes.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, you know,” she says. “There’s not many people that I could be around this much without wanting to bash my head in, but you’ve always made it easy. I love your dancing and your pancakes and your art and your eyes and the fact that you’re here with me, right now, because you’ve always cared for other people before yourself.” Ginny swallows. “And... I think I’m in love with you.”

Luna stares at her wordlessly, but she doesn’t look horrified, exactly, so Ginny takes it as her cue to keep going. “Luna, I want to be your girlfriend, if you’ll have me. For real this time.” 

“You love me?” Luna whispers, and there’s so much doubt in her eyes that Ginny wants to hurt whoever put it there.

“I love you,” she confirms. “So much.”

“Well, that works out then,” Luna says with the tiniest laugh. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Ginny thinks the proper thing to do is probably to talk about this more and figure out how they’re going to make it work, maybe tell her mother and hope she doesn’t kill them both, but all of that can come later, she figures. For now, she has a not-fake girlfriend in front of her and seemingly a record of the number of times she and Luna have kissed in the last few hours that she’d really hate to break. “Do you wanna get out of here?” she asks, gesturing at the empty room around them.

Luna beams and cocks her head. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well, we made it! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this and given it a read, y'all remind me why I love writing so much. And for anyone who's curious, chapter titles for this fic come from a song I wrote about a year ago that just so happens to be perfect for Ginny/Luna.
> 
> _come crashing into my life again  
>  could’ve sworn i’d loved you before  
> stand a little too close to me  
> but tell me if you’re wanting more  
> and finally, darling, here we are:  
> the part where i mess it all up  
> i’m tired of waiting, so here it goes  
> it’s the part where i say i’m in love._


End file.
